


This Dance of Damnation

by SpecterOfSong



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Byritza, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, He's caught feelings and having a crisis, I think those are the ship names idk, Jeritza is like emotion? whats that?, bylitza, spoilers for certain character identities, this started out as fluff and got really depressing, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 02:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20649605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterOfSong/pseuds/SpecterOfSong
Summary: Jeritza had been told to wait in hiding, observe his enemies, and strike their weak spot when they expected it least. He hadn't expected the newest professor to become his weakness along the way.





	This Dance of Damnation

Patience. Have patience is what they had told him. Bide your time. Gain their trust. Strike when they least expect and twist the knife from the inside to wound their enemies.

If they had told him he’d be here in order to accomplish this mission, he surely would have laughed in their face before gutting them, or in his superiors case, just denied it outright. But he was here instead of the battlefield, in a ballroom, surrounded by children. He had meant to avoid the occasion entirely, but Seteth had cornered him on his way back to his quarters to insist he be there, “for their protection”.

He chuckled under his breath at the thought of it. If that stuffy advisor knew what he truly was, then he wouldn't be asked to protect anything, or anyone.

But, he had to keep up appearances. Too many absences would create questions he couldn't answer without raising suspicion. So he kept his watch from the back corner, near the door, as always. Even in a place as extravagant as this, he gravitated towards the exit points, never really trusting that something dreadful wouldn't occur.

His height gave him a clear view across the ballroom, scanning over the dancing pairs until his eyes caught the sight of the monastery’s newest professor, being led through the crowd by that Alliance boy, Claude. He recalled her student's fixation on calling her Teach, and scoffed at the disrespectful tone it carried. She had often insisted that Jeritza use her name, Byleth, instead of Professor, as she had explained, “They were both professors, and besides, everyone called him Jeritza.”

Byleth had always been friendly towards him despite his many declarations of being uninterested, but she persisted; always making attempts to converse, inviting him to tea, and just spending time around him in general. He had tried to push her away, but he found himself drawn to her presence anyways.

She was gravitating, and despite his many attempts and excuses he was captivated by her. Off the battlefield she was attractive, he wouldn't deny it, and many of the students he had overheard seemed to think the same, but in a fight? She truly deserved the title of Ashen Demon.

Her prowess in battle was unmatched, except perhaps by his own abilities, and she commanded her pack of students with flawless grace. He had fought her in battle without her even knowing, hidden behind his horned mask, but he longed to battle her unimpeded someday, freed from their armor and distractions. He had imagined their final battle often, the victor and weapons of the two changing with each passing day. In the previous weeks however; he found his thoughts straying from his bloodlust and battle scenes he so often craved.

On one such night he had awoken breathless from the vision of her in a sunlit field, the two of them laying together as he reached for her outstretched hand. Sleep had eluded him that night as he tried to unravel the foreign feeling that had filled his chest with such warmth. He could vaguely recall something similar as a boy, when the only things he had to worry about was tripping over the skirts of his sister and how many pastries they could steal from the kitchens at the Bartel Estate. Those times were over though, he thought, squashing down the memories lest they consume his focus for the night.

As his thoughts spiraled further, he realized that his gaze had strayed to Byleth and her dancing partner much longer than appropriate, quickly looking back down into his glass to avoid any unwanted attention.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind, and took another sip of whatever drink the passing server had given him. It was fruity, with some level of alcohol, although obviously toned down so the students wouldn't get too intoxicated. It probably explained his rather unhinged trail of thoughts, as he was already on his third glass-or was it the fourth? Either way, he had found nothing better to do with himself while stagnating near the door.

Manuela had come by at one point, flitting about in her usual way and trying to make some semblance of a flirtatious comment towards him, but he brushed her off with an uninterested huff, sending her off to hang on some other poor fellows arm.

Despite his earlier attempts, Jeritza once again found his eyes straying to Byleth, being spun around in a wild attempt at a foxtrot by her student. Claude seemed much too pleased with his partner, and at one point he could have sworn he saw the young man send a smirk in his direction, as if he knew something he shouldn't have. Knowing that boy, he didn't doubt it. He had caught him snooping around near his quarters on several occasions, and if it wasn't for his authority as a teacher, he didn't doubt that his ulterior motives might have been found out by the whelp on many occasions. 

When her prized student released Byleth back to the sidelines, several others approached her, either to chat or to ask for a dance of their own. Without even realizing, his feet carried him in her direction, students quickly moving out of the way of the looming man in the mask now traversing the room, and placed his now empty glass on the tray of a passing server as he drew nearer. Weaving his way through the crowd, he finally arrived at his destination, the golden light casting his shadow across the back of the professor’s head.

One of the students she had been speaking to, a tiny thing with purple hair, looked up at the looming figure behind her teacher and squeaked, before running off to hide behind her classmates. Glancing behind to see what had frightened her student so, it only took a moment for her to realize who had come up behind her, recognition lighting her eyes as she looked up at him.

As he gazed down at her, all rational thought seemed to flee his mind as it so often did when attempting to speak with the professor. Ever the blank slate, the only visible reaction she gave to his silence was a quirk of the lips, accompanied by the slightest tilt of the head in greeting. As his mind struggled to produce coherent speech, embarrassment colored his face, leaving him uncomfortably flushed and warm, although whether that was due to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed or the professors presence or a combination of the two, he was unsure.

While he knew what he wanted to say, being so close to the person he typically observed from afar left him stumbling through his words, barely finding enough volume to mumble out his request.

“Dance… with me...”

Byleth’s face scrunched up as she leaned in closer, trying to make out what she had heard from the man whose face was slowly turning bright red with apparent embarrassment.

“I’m sorry Jeritza, could you repeat that?” 

“Won’t you-Would you...dance...with me”

What felt like an eternity passed without a response, as she stood there, face as blank and impassive as ever, staring up at him. Red-hot embarrassment flooded his system, and as he began to turn away with a dismissive huff, something stopped him; or rather, someone.

A slender hand was gripped around his own, the firm grasp stopping him from leaving, and as he looked back, he witnessed something he had rarely seen on the professors face. She seemed shocked, truly, but there was something underneath it that he couldn't decipher, and the longer he stared the more he could see the faint beginning of a blush appearing on her cheeks.

Finally she spoke, barely audible, but to him it seemed like the rest of the room had gone silent despite the festivities.

“I’d..um...like that very much.”

Swallowing the nervous energy threatening to consume him, he turned to stand next to her, hand still held in his own, and moved towards the middle of the floor, taking their place in the lull between dances. As his hand moved to her hip, she reached up her own to rest gently on his shoulder, closing the distance between the two of them.

The musicians began their next arrangement, the stirrings of memory from training in his youth bringing him the movements, startling Byleth as he pulled her into step. She winced as she stepped on the edge of his foot, drawing back in wordless apology, but he chose to ignore the misstep to pull her into a dip, following suit to the rest of the dancers around them.

Loathe as he was to admit it, he found himself enjoying their dance, the whisper of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth as he spun her through the room. Luckily for him, (and his trodden on feet) Byleth was as quick a learner as always, picking up the steps to the waltz as if she had known it all her life.

The music swallowed all other distractions, and to her surprise he brought her into a lift, azure hair framing her face as she looked down at him. She was light, matching her tiny build, but he could feel the muscle in her form. When her feet touched the ground at last, they were closer than before, chests nearly touching. Pulling back, he extended his arm outwards until only their clasped hands still met, circling one another; before bringing her back to meet in yet another twirl.

The music’s tempo increased, sending the dancers into a flurry of movement. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer as they spun, colors blurring around them as the rest faded out of view. His focus turned to her face; memorizing its details and staring down into her eyes as she held him like a lifeline in their dance. For the first time, he could view her up close, see the silver-green flecks of color so often hidden in her eyes, the slight quirk of her lips that created the soft smile most often reserved for her students. As he stared down at her, she looked right back, analyzing his own visage just as much as he'd been looking at hers.

Did she look at her students like this, he wondered? Or was she drawn to his presence as much as he was taken by hers? She was like gentle light illuminating his view, and he decided then what he must do. If she was his light, then he would be the darkness to accompany it, consuming the unworthy from spoiling it's glow.

The voices in the back of his mind rebuked him, trying to pull him back, back to his world of slaughter and battle, but she was radiant, banishing them from his mind. In the golden hue of the ballroom, he no longer felt like the beast inside, hungry for blood, but a man once more, drinking in the light of a star after living in darkness for so long. He didn't count himself among the believers of the goddess, but how could he? For She would not compare to the one that walked among them now. If that was considered blasphemy, than he would leave the fragmented remnants of his soul to the fires of Ailell, if only to continue their dance of damnation.

As the music finally reached its crescendo, he brought her into one more lift, grandly spinning her about as the last notes resonated through the air, slowly lowering her to face him. Despite being surrounded by dancers on all sides, it felt to him like they stood alone in the room, their own private ball among the stars.

They were both breathing heavily, the fast paced dance taking its toll on the two of them, and they stood so close he could nearly feel her breath on his face. A pink flush had run up her cheeks, hair slightly tousled by the dance, and her lips parted gently so she could catch her breath. She looked stunning despite her dishevelment, so flustered and out of breath, and without thinking, he brought his hand up to brush the errant hairs out of her face. She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed, and he found himself leaning down towards her instinctually, slowly closing the distance between the two of them.

As their lips drew together, nearly touching, a shattering of glasses sent him shooting backwards, Byleth leaning out of his touch to search for the source of the noise. Looking back to the dining tables, he saw the aftermath of where a student had mistakenly knocked the tray from a waiters hand in an excited gesture, and was now retreating from the scene, hand held over their face to hide their shame.

With his moment of respite destroyed, much like the glass on the floor, he realized just how exposed they had been, and how close to losing his purpose he had come. Taking a step back to a respectful distance, and mentally scolding himself for becoming so distracted, Jeritza gave a slight bow to Byleth, trying to ignore the sadness in her eyes and the tremble of her lip, then quickly retreated outside. He had to clear his mind, remove himself from her presence before he truly lost his way.

Letting his feet carry him out, he found himself standing outside the cathedral, the cold breeze doing little to allay his racing mind. As he moved further inside, he found it blissfully empty, the echoes of the music and laughter of the ballroom fading out of range. Collapsing into a pew, he cradled his head in his hands, trying to wring the unfaithful thoughts from his mind, frustration bringing the grip on his hair tighter still. Anger pulsed through his veins; at himself, at his duty, and at the source of his torments, but quickly faded as he dropped his hands to rest at his side, leaving only his grief, heavy and tangible in the air around him. 

The stillness of the cathedral was disturbed by stilted breaths, as he bit down into his gloved fist to resist the emotions broiling inside him. The beginning of tears gathered at the corner of his eyes and ran down the inside of his mask before he could stop them. Pushing away the foreign dampness, his mask loosened from his face, unable to catch it as he watched it fall crumpled to the floor.

She had done this to him.

She had unraveled his defenses, destroyed the years of carefully built walls and cultivated anger, reduced it to choked sobs in an empty cathedral. Sweeping his mask back into his hands, he rose, pushing his pew backwards with a screech of wood. Moving down the center aisle, he approached the arching window at the front of the church where moonlight illuminated the effigy of their goddess, wiping the tears from his eyes lest they consume him.

In his moment of weakness, he had forgotten what he truly was. He was nothing more than a beast, unworthy of love, unworthy of her light, unworthy of the touch of her hand on his own. He did not deserve her, the bloodstained creature that he was.

As he stood there, basked in the light of the portrait of Fodlan's false goddess; winter's clouds began to blot out the moonlight, pushing the cathedral into pitch darkness.

Tying his mask back into place, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, grounding himself in his new resolution.

If she was to be the light, then he would be the darkness to smother it, two sides to the same force. She was his counterpoint, the radiance of a saint to the blood of a sinner.

One would die, while the other must live.

His partner in their dance of damnation.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore Jeritza and despite not showing up often, I think he's really just such a complex character. Jeritza/Byleth is one of my favorite ships to come from this game, and i wanted to get some ideas out of my head into writing. This was really self-indulgent, and my first real attempt at writing fic, so please let me know if there's any glaring errors involved...but anyways Jeritza please answer my DMs lets get married ;-;


End file.
